


Experiment

by JeremyWritesAFiction



Category: Outstanding! (Podcast), Protean City Comics (Podcast)
Genre: Bad Parenting, Doing Experiments On Your Children is Not OK, Gen, PCOY, Therapy, This Is Confirmed Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26064904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeremyWritesAFiction/pseuds/JeremyWritesAFiction
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Experiment

**Discovery**

A camera sat in one corner, its lens obscured behind a black plastic bubble. It looked like the eye of some primordial sea creature, all bulging reflective pupil. It was supposed to be comforting -- to lessen the impact of being recorded by making the camera look less like a camera. It wasn't working.

The room was small, but not claustrophobic. Two soft chairs rested a comfortable distance apart from each other. There was no overhead light, only a standing lamp creating a warm, almost candle-lit, space. End tables near each seat held boxes of tissues, notepads, and a clock.

In the seat nearest the door, a middle-aged woman of Chinese descent in a white knit sweater held a clipboard. Dr. Timothea Huang was a professional. Still, the intake appointment was always the hardest part. Laying the groundwork for a positive experience was going to be critical for moving forward in a beneficial manner for the patient. In a very real way, what happened here would ripple forward.

Across from her, a startlingly large figure fidgeted and stared at his feet, his eyes darting occasionally to the poorly-disguised camera in the corner -- if Dr. Huang hadn't known better, she'd think he was an adult. Marlin Traeger was twelve years old and swiftly closing on six feet tall. He was broad as well, but in an uncomfortably asymmetric manner. His skin was...

 _Well,_ she thought, _skin wasn't the right word for it anymore._

Scales. Blue and iridescent green, small streaks of yellow along the base of his neck. Marlin did not have hair anymore. A sail protruded from his head, cresting backwards along cartilaginous spines that looked very sharp. He hunched forward so that they did not pierce the soft fabric of the chair, obviously quite conscious of his body.

The incident report provided by the PCPD detailing his case rattled her when she had read it the night previous. The true depths of FALCON's operations in Protean City would likely take years to come fully to light. Every new discovery was worse than the last. Dr. Huang was not looking forward to finding the bottom of this particularly awful well.

**Hypothesis**

“Ha! Take that!"

Two young boys chased each other along the boardwalk, sticks in hands. Occasionally one would turn to take a swipe at the other, who would parry. Just down from them two men sipped drinks at a small pop-up cafe.

One was slender, dark of hair and eyes, in a bright tank top that showed off his well-toned physique. Adam Trace had the kind of face that denied being placed an age, but welcomed the attempt. He swirled something bright blue and alcoholic in a tall glass with a little umbrella in it, and smiled at absolutely everyone. Most of them smiled back.

"Thank you for helping me, Mr. Trace. I don't often do things like this, you know..."

Henry Traeger adjusted his glasses nervously, eyes darting towards Trace and sliding off of his face as if it were smooth glass. Dr. Traeger was definitely in his forties and had worn hard black shoes and socks to the beach. He did not own a pair of sandals and could not be bothered to buy any. Henry's son Marlin was currently sprinting down towards the shore while Adam's son Elliot followed, ferociously slashing the air. Both of them howled with laughter.

"Henry. Come on." Adam Trace smiled genially, softly punching Henry in the shoulder. "No need to be so stiff. You can't call me Adam after all this time?"

"Yes, I suppose... Adam." Traeger lifted his own drink to his lips -- a bottle of domestic beer, which Adam Trace had chided him for as being a 'boring choice.'

"That's the spirit!" Adam laughed and the rest of the cafe briefly turned to marvel at the perfection of it. "And you're welcome, of course, I mean it was barely any trouble at all. Ellis did half the work, truly."

"I'm very happy to hear that." Henry Traeger's eyes shifted among the people in the open air cafe, desperately searching for anything approaching a FALCON agent. "That sample is going to revolu-"

"Nope. Nope nope." Trace held up a hand towards Henry. "I don't need to know what you want this for. Let's just keep it that way, hm?"

Trace removed a small glass vial containing a few milliliters of clear liquid from the pocket of his flattering turquoise board shorts. A blue band at one end bore a long serial number and the words CONTROLLED SUBSTANCE emblazoned in bright silver. He smoothly rolled it across the counter-top to Henry, who took a moment to check the serial number and then pocketed the vial, eyes darting around the boardwalk to make sure he wasn't being watched.

Once he was satisfied, Dr. Henry Traeger, formerly of FALCON Research and Development, and Adam Trace, Most Extraordinary Gentleman Thief, removed their respective cell phones from their respective pockets. To passersby it looked as if the two men were simply checking messages or social media. A few long minutes went by, and then the two men put their phones on the counter.

"Well," Trace yawned, stretching his arms above his head and attracting an audible gasp from a nearby table. His eyes turned towards the surf where their sons played, and then back to Dr. Traeger. He held a hand out. Henry took another sip of his boring domestic beer and then shook it. On the shore, Marlin was pretending to die in the surf while Elliot gently, but insistently, stabbed him with a stick.

**Results**

Mar's stomach hurt. His skin itched. His mouth felt weird. Everything felt weird. A few weeks ago his best friend had moved away. None of that seemed to matter much right now. Everything felt weird. There were voices upstairs, and heavy footsteps.

 _We're going to be heroes,_ Dad had said. _We're going to do a lot of good._

The first few nights, Mar hadn't been able to sleep -- he'd had a fever and Dad had called him out of school. He'd thrown up a lot. Mar hadn't gone back to school.

 _This is to be expected,_ Dad said. _This is normal._

Mar's hair felt weird. He wasn't used to being able to feel his hair. It was not a great sensation. The basement was kept very dim. Dad said his eyes would adjust eventually, once the changes stabilized. Dad said they were close to finishing the process. Just a few more treatments.

The voices upstairs got louder, there was a brief burst of shouting from Dad.

The basement door exploded inwards, wood splinters raining down out of the bright rectangle. Mar raised his hand to cover his eyes and shrank back from the noise. In the door, Henry Traeger stood behind a large figure with thick, red, plated skin and a large, bushy mustache. He was tugging on Craw-Dad's massive frame, trying to pull him from the doorway to no avail.

**Peer Review**

Craw-Dad stared down at the basement, the machinery, the plastic tanks labeled in scribbled formulae, and finally at Mar -- who was just beginning to turn to look up at the doorway and the hero standing there. Craw-Dad's robotic hand curled into a fist. Silence blossomed as the realizations hit him. Where the missing samples of Kraken’s DNA had gone. Why Marlin Traeger hadn’t been to school in over a month.

And then the Uncrackable Craw-Dad turned and punched Dr. Henry Traeger square in the nose.

**Conclusions**

Timothea Huang sat in her office, a once-warm cup of coffee swiftly cooling on her desk. After all her years dealing with the aftermath of superhuman crime, it was still impossible for her to fathom the kind of mind that would experiment on a child. Luckily, that wasn't her job.

Marlin Traeger would need a robust support network to even begin to cope with what had happened... what had _been done_... to him. The city's social workers could and would do their part, of course, but it would be difficult to place Marlin in a stable home given his rapidly changing circumstances. So long term foster care it was, then. When it came down to it, there was only one option that was properly equipped.

Dr. Huang took a few moments to compose herself, laid the files out on her desk and practiced what she would say. She gave herself a moment to drink her coffee. She lifted the phone, dialed, and waited. Within a few moments a voice answered.

"Yes, hello, can I speak with Sage Prince?"


End file.
